Progression
by hummingbirdFF
Summary: Ending a relationship with the person you love can be heart-breaking. Then again, that might just be where the real story begins.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight. The characters used belong to Stephenie Meyer, but the plot (what little of it there is) belongs to me. Please do not repost this story.

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**PROLOGUE**

**...**

The door slams shut.

I don't dare look up. It might have been my imagination, but I swear I could feel my entire universe shake with the force of it.

She'll be back. She always comes back. We've had this fight before, and we'll get past it, just like we always do.

I grab my keys from the side table and head to Bliss. Halfway there I change my mind and head to Sassafras—I need a drink. Or five.

I make my way to the bar and order two bourbons. I make quick work of the first and then find a seat where I can nurse the other.

We'd been going in circles for the last five months. The current job offer in Atlanta would significantly lighten our financial burden, but she knows that if I leave LA any chance of a career in this music industry will be dead to me.

I lift my glass to my lips only to realise that there's nothing left. Still feeling tense and frustrated, I decide it would be better to head home.

My heart pangs when I find the apartment empty. She must be really mad at me this time. I toe off my shoes and drop onto our cold bed without another thought. I'm exhausted and my eyes close as soon as my head hits the pillow.

**...**

I wake to the sound of closet doors opening and closing. I throw my arm over my eyes and grumble.

"Baby, come back to bed. We'll find whatever you're looking for later."

"What are you talking about? I don't have time for this!" She sounds agitated.

My eyebrows furrow. "Why are you in such a hurry? Have you got a meeting?"

She huffs the way she usually does when I've angered her.

"I don't have time for you to play dumb, Edward. My flight leaves in 4 hours, and I'm not done packing!"

My eyes shoot open, and I nearly fall out of bed—my legs have tangled in the sheets in my rush. The scene in front of me is straight from my nightmares. Two suitcases lay open on the bedroom floor while a couple of unfolded boxes are leaning against the wall. The open closet door reveals two empty shelves.

"Wha… what are you doing?" I nearly choke on my words. My throat feels as dry as a desert.

Her hands still over the pile of clothes she is folding. Her stance is rigid, but I can see her taking a deep breathe.

"Edward, please…" the request catches in her throat "…I can't rehash last night. It was already painful enough. If I like the job, Maggie will come and pack whatever I couldn't fit into the suitcases and ship it to me."

This doesn't make sense. I can feel my head spinning. This cannot be happening.

We fight. She leaves. She cools down. And then she always, _always_ comes back to me.

I'm trying to figure out what to say when I hear her zip up a suitcase. Before she can reach for the second one, I'm holding her in my arms. She keeps her eyes averted, hidden behind her bangs, but I can see that they are red-rimmed. So I do the only thing I can think of—I beg.

"Baby, please. You can't honestly even consider this. We have a life here. We have our future. I…" my voice cracks "…I love you, so much."

Tears are running down her pale cheeks. But then she grasps my hands and moves them away from her body.

"I know you do. And we did have a future. But we don't anymore."

As her hands let go of mine, they feel like lead weights falling to my sides. I feel numb. My brain can't comprehend the words that she just spoke.

I stand frozen as she stares at her feet. Then, without another word, she grabs both suitcases and walks away from me.

The door slams shut.

**...**

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**AN: **_Hi! So, this is my first multi-chapter fic__—__it'll only be about 7 or 8 chapters. I originally planned to write an o/s for the Ho Hey Contest, but that inspired this, so I decided to just run with it :) If all goes as it should, I'll be posting twice a week: Wednesdays and Sundays. _

_I'd love to hear what you guys think of this! Please leave me a review or say hi on Twitter ( hummingbirdFF)!_

_All thanks goes to my incredible beta and friend, bigblueboat__—__she fixes all my grammar mistakes and puts up with my neurotic tendencies during the writing process!_

*Check out the Ho Hey Contest entries here: www **dot** fanfiction **dot** net/u/4392156/

*And the song that started it all—Ho Hey by The Lumineers: www **dot** youtube **dot** com/watch?v=zvCBSSwgtg4


	2. Chapter 1: Denial

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Twilight. The characters used belong to Stephenie Meyer, but the plot (what little of it there is) belongs to me. Please do not repost this story.

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**DENIAL**

**...**

An incoming message startles me, and I realise that I've been staring at nothing. I fumble through the mess on the bedside table to find my phone. It's her. It has to be.

_Message: Hey dude! Where are we…_

I don't even make the effort to read the entire notification. It's not her. It doesn't matter.

My eyes immediately fall on the unfolded boxes leaning against the wall. They look completely out of place in our bedroom. Wrong—they don't belong here.

My brain feels like a snow globe that's been shaken about. Hundreds of thoughts are running through my head, but none of them make sense. There's no order, no logic.

I walk to the closet, my hand hesitating over the doorknob. My head knows exactly what I will see once I open this door, but my heart gives a sharp pang at the mere thought. _No, don't do it._

I stumble backwards onto our bed. My eyes close unconsciously as I take a deep breathe. I can still smell her on our sheets. Her just-out-of-the-shower scent is still drifting from the en suite.

Her lingering presence calms my mind and body. This is just like any other day. She's gone to work, but she'll miss me. She'll come home.

The more I think about it, the more reassured I feel. She can't just walk away from our life. She'll be there one day, two at the most. Then she'll come home. She'll realise what a big mistake she's making.

With that reassuring thought, I start my morning routine so I won't be late for work.

**…**

I head to my office. Even though it's small, cramped and messy, I love it. When we first moved here four years ago, I knew it was going to be tough. No-one moves to LA and thinks it's going to be easy (unless you're delusional, or not in the entertainment industry). I took a lackey-job at Relativity Media. It's been a tough few years of working from the bottom, but finally, thanks to a great studio executive, I've found myself under the tutelage of Mr. Danny Elfman. Well, maybe not exactly. I've only been working for him for a few weeks, so I'm still waiting for him to take me under his wing. It'll happen soon though, I'm sure of it.

This was our plan. We made our decisions with our eyes wide open—we _both_ knew that this wasn't going to be easy. But this is my dream, and I have put in too many hours of blood, sweat and tears to give up on it now—especially not when I'm this close. Working for a big composer is the best step I can take towards making a name for myself. It's the foot in the door I need to reach my goal.

I'm almost there. She sees that, doesn't she? Our days of struggling are almost over!

I check my phone again: no new messages. She must still be in the air.

The day is incredible. Mr. Elfman is working on the score for a film that is slated to be one of next summer's biggest blockbusters. Being a part of this process is a dream come true.

I head home a little after 7 p.m., drained but fulfilled.

The dark entryway is not the greeting I would like.

I drop my bags by the door and sink into the couch. I feel my phone digging into my leg and suddenly remember that I didn't turn it back on after work. Immediately I feel anxious—what if she's called? I turn on my phone, feeling jittery as I wait for it to finish starting up. Why do smart phones have to take so damn long just to turn on?

A few texts: I scroll through them, but none are from her. Then I check my voice mail. I run through the messages hoping to find her beautiful voice in them, skipping each one almost instantly when I don't. I skip the sixth message only to find that it was the last. My heart sinks.

She must still be angry. She'll call tomorrow once she's settled. She'll realise she wants to come home.

**…**

Three days.

It's been three days of silence from my love.

Then she calls. Once. She calls while I'm at work. I find the message as soon as I get home.

"_Edward, I… I wanted you to know that I arrived safely. I'm sorry. I know this isn't right, but I can't talk to you right now. It hurts too much. I… I just... I-I'm so sorry. I've got to go."_

That is all. I've been waiting for her to call again, but I haven't heard a word. She just needs a few more days to get over this. I'm struggling and can't wait to have her back in my arms. I need her to come home to me.

**…**

On day eight the phone rings at 7 a.m. I'm having a really tough time sleeping alone, so I answer the phone with a groggy hello.

"Hi."

That one whispered word almost knocks the wind out of me.

"Sweetheart," I breathe out. I feel like the smile stretching my face might just crack my cheeks. She's finally ready to come home!

"I'm… I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. I just knew that if I heard your voice, it would break me." She sounds close to tears. I wish she hadn't put herself through this.

"It's okay, sweetheart. That doesn't matter now. I'm just so glad that you're finally ready to come home."

There is a small gasp followed by silence on the other end of the line. My brows scrunch together—this isn't right.

"Edward, no. That's not why I'm calling. I… Maggie will be coming by on Tuesday to pack the rest of my things."

This time it's _my_ breathe that comes out with a loud gasp. No. This isn't how it's supposed to happen. She's supposed to come home to me.

I hear her sniffle on the other end. "Edward, please don't make this any more difficult than it is already. I don't think I can handle that."

I want to ask what the fuck she's saying, but my ears are ringing and it feels like my throat is swelling up. I choke out a plea. "Baby, please don't do this. Come home to me. Our life is here. Please…"

"No! Stop this. I… I can't wait anymore, Edward. This is what's best for me, for us. You just can't see that. You were never willing to see that."

Her words cut like shards of broken glass. How do I salvage this conversation?

"Edward, I have to go. Please don't take this out on Maggie. She's only doing what I asked. I'm sorry. I… Goodbye, Edward."

She waits a few moments for a response, but my mouth won't form any words. I hear a choked sob as the line goes dead. A few seconds pass before I realise the sobs are coming from me.

**...**

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**AN: **_I'm excited to hear what you all think about this chapter! Leave me some thoughts, people! You can review here or hit me up on Twitter: hummingbirdFF :)_

_Lots of love to my beautiful beta, bigblueboat. She took the time to point out the overabundance of buts in this chapter (among other things) ;D_


	3. Chapter 2: Anger

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Twilight. The characters used belong to Stephenie Meyer, but the plot (what little of it there is) belongs to me. Please do not repost this story.

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**ANGER**

**…**

There's a baseball game on TV, but I have no idea who's playing. In fact, I'm not even facing the TV. With my elbows on my knees and my hands in my hair, I'm trying my best to regulate my breathing. I hear more shuffling in the bedroom. Every minor sound is grating on my nerves. I swear I can feel the veins in my face twitching as my teeth grind together.

Footsteps move down the hallway.

"Edward?"

I clench my eyes shut and take a deep, steadying breath through my nose.

As I lift my head, I open my eyes (though they don't seem to cooperate any further than small slits). My fingers interlock in front of my mouth, trying to physically contain my words.

The redhead standing in front of me seems to have a permanent frown etched on her face. She gives an audible sigh as she takes in my expression.

"I think this is the last box. I'm pretty sure I've missed one or two things, though. If you find anything else, just shoot me a text, and I'll come by to pick it up."

She seems to be waiting for some kind of a response, but I know that if I open my mouth right now, I won't be able to contain my words. They seem to be boiling somewhere extremely close to the surface, scratching at my throat, trying to claw their way out of me. And none of them are pretty.

She huffs and turns towards the front door, box in hand. My knuckles are turning white, and it feels like someone is tearing at the muscles in my neck and shoulders.

She's finally walking through the door, but just as my tension threatens to loosen just the slightest bit, she turns back around. "You know, things didn't have to be this way. If you'd just…"

I don't give her the chance to finish.

"You know what, Maggie? We both know you never liked me, and now? I don't even have to fucking pretend to like you either. So, please, just get the fuck out of my house."

Her face takes on a look of shock for about two seconds. Then that nasty sneer she's been throwing me the last five years, the one she thinks no-one ever notices, is aimed directly at me. There we go. No pretences necessary anymore.

"Glad to finally be rid of you, asshole."

Then she turns on her heel and sashays out of the apartment, not even bothering to close the door behind her.

As I reach the door, I yell after her, "The feeling's mutual, you frigid bitch!"

I belatedly realise Mr. Gordon from 408 is standing just outside his door. I give him a shrug and a mumbled apology before slamming my door shut.

What a fucked up day.

**…**

Garrett comes around at six.

"Man, you do _not_ look good. What's going on?"

"Maggie came by."

"Oh, right. How is the shrew?"

I roll my eyes at him. "Seriously? Who gives a fuck? The only bright spot from that visit is that I'll never have to see her ass again."

"Dude, you look ready to deck someone. How about we swing by the cages before we hit the bar?"

That's actually a great idea, but I'm not gonna tell _him_ that. The fucker will just give me that smug smile of his. Instead I give a non-committal grunt as I grab my gear from the closet.

It's a Thursday evening, so the batting cages are pretty empty. This is good because I think an outburst is imminent, and I don't need more people to see it than absolutely necessary.

We start slow, but my tense muscles are not satisfied. I need to let out these… issues. I need to bash something.

G throws a worried glance my way when I suggest speeding up after only a few slow pitches, but he concedes.

It doesn't take very long for a good burn to build in my back and shoulders. I can feel my anger bubbling just beneath the surface. And suddenly, I just can't hold it in anymore.

"Who the fuck does she think she is? _She_ left _me_! And now she won't be bothered to even pick up the phone when I call? Because it's too difficult for _her_? Fuck that! What about me?"

My swings are getting steadily wilder with each word. Although G has now stopped checking out the girls in the next cage and put all his focus on me, he doesn't interrupt. He's letting me vent.

"I don't understand it, G! We were _happy_. We had a plan! How the fuck can she just up and leave? And then she doesn't even have the decency to come back? No, of course not. She sends that bloody hag as her final goodbye!"

Even though my arms and shoulders now feel like they are on fire, I don't stop swinging.

"Everything is gone. Like she never even existed! How can she do this to us? Why? Why, why, why? WHY?" Each word is punctuated by a hit. When the balls stop coming, I can't keep it in any longer. The scream that leaves my body sounds inhuman—it tears at my throat and makes all of my muscles contract.

I squat down, suddenly feeling my strength leave me. G crouches down next to me and slowly removes the bat from my death grip.

"Come on, man. Let's go get a drink."

**…**

The place is packed, as usual, but I barely pay attention as G steers me to the bar. He waves to the bartender, and soon we each have a beer in hand. I just about inhale my first.

The bartender gives me a side eye as I immediately ask for another, but hands me a full bottle. G doesn't hassle me as I brood over the bottle in my hand. I know I've been a really shitty friend the last few weeks, but I've had no idea how else to cope. So I've been burying myself in work—early mornings and late nights—until I'm so exhausted that I can simply fall into bed for a night of dreamless sleep.

Nights I now have to spend alone.

I can feel the anger still simmering. The music can't seem to drown out my thoughts, and the continuous loop of questions starts building the tension back up. Finally, the words come out. "I don't fucking understand!"

Several people at the bar turn to stare at the scene I'm causing—I just can't find it in me to care.

"How can she just give up? We've had this plan for years, and I'm finally getting there. I'm so close to reaching my dream! We could have had everything we've ever wanted, everything we had planned! I don't understand how she could just walk away from us!"

Then suddenly I just feel… exhausted. My head drops into my hands like it weighs a ton. My eyes start to burn.

G clasps my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ed. I don't have those answers for you. The only person who can answer those questions is in Atlanta."

"But she won't even take my fucking calls! Or reply to my e-mails. What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

And then it hits me. I need to go see her. She can't possibly turn me away if I'm on her doorstep, right?

**...**

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**AN: **_Hi guys! So when I started writing for the first time, I decided two things:_

_1. Avoid first-person writing at ALL costs. (I'm just not really a fan of it, and I don't like multiple POVs in fic.)_

_2. If first-person writing cannot be avoided, write a female POV. (Because I have NO idea how guys think ;D)_

_Clearly, this plot bunny did not like these decisions. However, I didn't realise how tough it would really be! So I'm gonna scale down updates to once a week (as I've already done). __In light of the above, I'd really love to hear your opinions on this chapter! The point of feedback, after all, is to improve your writing :)_

_As always, I'd like to thank my lovely beta, bigblueboat. I love you, snark and all ;)_


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